


Winter's Tales: Wilful

by AllTheBellsInVenice



Series: Winter's Tales [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 100 follower ficlets, Anal Play, BDSM, Consensual, Dom Sherlock, F/M, Floor Sex, Molly is a brat, Prompt Fill, Sherlolly - Freeform, Spanking, daddy dom, winter's tales
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1754883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheBellsInVenice/pseuds/AllTheBellsInVenice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly enjoys testing her master's patience, especially when he richly deserves it. Set in my Winter universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter's Tales: Wilful

**Author's Note:**

> First published on Tumblr to fill this prompt from Anonymous:
> 
>  
> 
> _Sometimes, not often, when Molly thinks Sherlock is growing complacent, and maybe even a tad bored, in his domming she acts like a brat. Because it keeps Sherlock on her toes and the results of her acting out benefit each other oh so well. It’s feels like their first time all over again._

Molly knelt in front of Sherlock’s armchair, one of her favorite places to be, with her wrists bound behind her back and his cock in her mouth. He’d walked into the flat and thrown himself down into the chair, then called her over, snapped on her restraints and opened his trousers, just as he almost always did these days when he came home after finishing a case. And just as he’d trained her, Molly had obediently bent her head.

Now, tenderly, passionately, she drew on her master’s cock, savouring its scent of musk and salt. She’d serviced him diligently for a good while, her task made more difficult without the use of her hands; she’d even been giving him a fine little show, wiggling her arse and and licking and sucking him as energetically as could. Which was why Molly found herself incredibly frustrated when, instead of her master’s sighs of pleasure and low words of praise, her ears were graced with a faint snore.

In disbelief, Molly looked up. Sure enough, Sherlock’s head had fallen back against the chair, and his mouth hung slightly open. Molly let his cock slip out of her mouth and pursed her swollen, wet lips in fury. Aside from the implied insult of his falling asleep while she was giving her very best to his cock, she knew a dom should always pay attention while his sub was in restraints. Angrily, impulsively, Molly shifted her weight and brought one knee down onto his foot. Hard.

With a grunt, Sherlock jerked backward; the chair lurched, and in the next second he was blinking down at her, crinkling his nose and showing her his teeth.

“Molly, what the hell did you do that for?” he snapped.

“Sorry, sir,” she said shortly, failing to smile. “Accident.” She looked at him stonily.

“It was not.” Slowly, deliberately, Sherlock reached out and seized her hair. He leaned forward until his face was inches from hers.

“Are you being a little brat?” he asked her, looking directly into her eyes. Molly only glared back, and Sherlock’s gaze narrowed. “Molly. Do you need my finger in your bottom?”

She gave a strangled gasp, but he didn’t let her form any kind of reply. Instead, he hauled her roughly up by the hair and all but threw her over his lap. Molly fought him halfheartedly, thrashing and whining as he pushed her head down and, with his other hand, hauled her knickers halfway down her arse. Wetting one finger in his mouth, Sherlock parted her cheeks and twisted it slowly into her little arsehole.

Instantly, Molly went limp across his lap, biting her lip in shame, her cheeks turning hot as he gently worked that slick finger into her bottom. “There now, that’s my girl,” Sherlock said. He stroked her hair.

“Now tell me,” he said in low, soothing tones, “you put your knee on my foot on purpose. Didn’t you.” That violating finger gave a little wriggle.

“Yes, sir,” Molly moaned. “I’m so sorry, sir. I won’t do it again.” She hung her head, feeling as though she might cry with shame and need.

“I think you need a little reminder, young lady,” Sherlock continued in the same measured, smooth voice. His hand slid down her arm and released one of her wrist restraints. “Reach under the chair and pull out the discipline box.”

She couldn’t help giving a whimper, but did as she was ordered, stretching her arm to grope under the armchair. He’d placed several discipline boxes all around the flat so he would always have what he needed close at hand, much to Molly’s delight and chagrin. She soon found the little black box with its combination lock, and reached up to set it on the arm of his chair.

Sherlock’s hand left her hair. He entered the combination, then popped the box open and rummaged. He soon held a plastic object in front of her face.

“Your reminder,” he told her. He forced the slim little thing into her mouth, and Molly gave a moan as she hurried to coat it with as much saliva as she could. Almost too soon, he was pulling it away again.

His finger slid out of her bottom and was replaced a second later with the little plug. Sherlock pulled a packet of wet wipes from the box as well, cleaned his finger, and then settled himself and Molly on the chair. His hand rested lightly on her bottom, toying lazily with the plug.

“Tell me, young lady,” Sherlock said conversationally. “What happens to bad little brats?”

“They are punished, sir,” Molly whispered. Oh, the ignominity of being pulled across his lap…her behind in the air…

“Yes. Yes they are,” Sherlock agreed. He lifted his hand. “Count,” he said, and his hand fell and cracked hard on her arse.

“One,” Molly whimpered, swallowing hard. She’d never quite got used to—-

Crack!

“Two,” she moaned, and yelped as his hand fell again a bare second later. “Three!” Oh, how she hated it when he varied the timing of his spanks!

“What should nice little girls do if they see their masters are distracted? Instead of doing something passive-aggressive and naughty?”

“Four!…Five!…Six, seven, eight!” Molly cried, and the tears flowed. “Use…use their words, sir,” she moaned.

“Very good, darling Molly,” Sherlock purred. His hand rested soothingly on her stinging bum for a moment. “Now get down on hands and knees, girl. Time to give your master some relief.” And he leaned back to let Molly scramble out of the chair and kneel on her thick sheepskin.

Molly still felt rather resentful, despite the softening effect a spanking had on her. He’d made her look ridiculous, with her knickers hanging off her bottom, the humiliating plug surely visible to him between her bright-red arse cheeks. An idea formed in her mind. Sniffling, Molly looked back, and when Sherlock had knelt behind her and was pushing down his trousers, she suddenly crawled forward hastily, and was off her sheepskin and halfway across the sitting room before Sherlock could react.

His roar of rage thrilled her blood, then his big hand seized her ankle and was hauling her back. “Molly! God damn it! Get back here, you wilful little bitch,” he shouted, and then his weight landed on her back, crushing her body against the sitting room carpet. He forced her legs apart with his knees.

“Safeword, Molly,” Sherlock barked at her, taking a fistful of her hair. “Safeword, or you get nothing!”

“Skull,” Molly panted against the carpet, tingling with excitement, and Sherlock jerked her knickers aside and shoved his cock into her.

He fucked her roughly, grinding her against the floor as Molly closed her eyes, exulting in her dom’s momentary loss of control as well as his hard thrusts.

“You don’t deserve to come,” he snarled in her ear. “I’m just going to use you for my pleasure now. Push your bottom up for me. Oh, that’s right,” he panted as Molly obeyed. “Now you’re being a good girl when you’re all out of options.” He jerked her hair and lowered his face to bite at her neck.

Now that his head was turned, Molly’s little hand slipped under her body furtively, inch by inch, and her smile broadened when her fingers came within reach of her clit. As Sherlock drove hard inside her, she happily tickled herself, enjoying the movements of his little “reminder” in her arse and knowing that in a moment, when she came, he’d surely feel it and be forced to react to her disobedience.

But then Sherlock himself was groaning and pulsing inside her, and Molly tossed her plan aside and just sighed her climax into the carpet with a secret smile.

Then Sherlock lifted off her, and his hands turned her gently and pulled her toward him to settle her into his lap. “Molly, darling, I’m sorry I fell asleep,” he told her. He dropped kiss after kiss on her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth. “Not very nice of your master, when you were giving such good service.” He checked her over quickly. “All well?”

“Oh yes,” she told him, smiling beatifically. She cuddled into his chest, feeling his heart beating hard. “Tiring case, was it?”

“Ran all over town,” he replied. He cradled her head. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you coming without permission, my love,” he told her, his fingers brushing her cheek. “I’ll make you suffer for that. Later.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” she smirked up at him, and Sherlock laughed.


End file.
